The Best Man For The Job
by Merel
Summary: This story is set in an alternate universe created with the episode The Leap Back…only Sam and Al don’t switch back and Al keeps leaping


Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Don Bellisario, Bellisarius Productions, NBC, and MCA/Universal. No copyright infringement is intended by their use. 

This story is set in an alternate universe created with the episode The Leap Back…only Sam and Al don't switch back and Al keeps leaping 

The Best Man For The Job

By: Merel Inglis

The disorientation was overwhelming, vaguely reminding him of his early days as an astronaut. In fact, leaping-in was very reminiscent of all those equilibrium tests that NASA had put him through, just to see how long it would take for him to toss his cookies. Thank goodness, it wasn't quite as bad as the Tea-Cup Ride at Disneyland.

The room slowly stopped its nauseated spin and settled into a small, cozy kitchen. Admiral Albert Calavicci shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the leap-induced cobwebs. Finally able to focus, the admiral noticed the bright sunlight spilling through the kitchen window. It was early morning by Al's estimation, and a warm breeze softly stirred the ruffled, blue and white check curtains. The time traveler hesitantly sniffed the air, catching a whiff of lilac carried on the breeze. Late spring, maybe? He smiled smugly. He was getting good at this game.

The admiral scanned the room, then glanced down to find himself seated at a small oak table, holding a newspaper--one edge of which was precariously close to a mug of steaming coffee. He pulled the paper out of harm's way and chuckled at his good fortune. It wasn't often that he leaped in and found vital information right at his fingertips. Al pressed his advantage and inspected the newspaper's masthead. It was the Washington Post--June 15th, 1969. 

The smug smile crept back. He was way ahead; Where and When were covered, now all that was left was Who. It was a favorite little game of Al's--to see how much information he could attain about his new identity before Ziggy located him and centered Sam in on the situation. Leaping had swiss-cheesed his mind and the admiral had very few pre-leap memories, but he did recall how annoying it had been to show up as Project Observer, ready to save the day, only to find that Sam was already a step ahead. Now, with Al leaping through time and Sam playing Hapless Holographic Helper, the admiral took his revenge where he could get it. 

A movement of the newspaper in front of him attracted Al's attention. A soft tapping sounded as the paper moved slightly in his grasp.

Tap, tap. 

Al's eyes narrowed as he watched the paper shimmy once more. 

"Daddy? Where's my breakfast?" The voice was tiny and emerged from behind the wall of newsprint.

Al closed his eyes. _God, please don't let this be happening._

"Daddy?" the insistent little voice beckoned again.

Al sighed, looking up at the heavens. _Thanks a lot._

The admiral begrudgingly opened his eyes. He held his breath in a silent prayer and slowly folded the newspaper down to face the situation. 

The 'situation' turned out to be a dark-haired little girl dressed in Winnie-The-Pooh pajamas. She took one look at Al and stuck the thumb of her right hand in her mouth. From the other hand dangled an obviously well-loved stuffed unicorn.

There was a brief moment of silence as the two faced off. Al's expression followed that of the child's as his face mutated into a frown. She was perhaps five, maybe six.

Very young.

Way too young. 

Never one to borrow trouble and hoping for the best, the admiral employed his finest weapon--the Calavicci Charm. 

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, leaning down closer to the little girl and donning an encouraging smile.

The child's expression didn't change. Her eyebrows were knit together in a equal mixture of distrust and fear, her lower lip trembling in a pout.

Al tried again, this time pushing his chair around so he could fully face the little girl. "Sweetie, what'cha doing?"

"You're not my daddy," the little girl said vehemently, clutching the unicorn to her and taking a step away from the admiral. "And I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." She removed her thumb from her mouth as she spoke, but then defiantly popped it back in.

Al tried not to let his frustration show. No sense frightening the poor kid anymore than she already was. He had to tell her something though. Begrudgingly, he decided on the truth.

"No, I'm not your daddy. Your daddy had to go away for a while and I'm here to take his place until he comes back. Which will be real soon--I promise," Al said, trying to sound comforting and feeling like a complete heel as he looked down at the trembling child who stood before him.

"No, no," the distraught youngster screeched. Tears filled her eyes and she moved a step back from the stranger and his frightening words.

"Al," Sam's voice caused them both to jump.

The physicist was standing across the table from the admiral, the sunlight from the window casting an erie halo about his holographic form. At Al's frustrated shrug, Sam punched at the handlink, then looked back at the two. 

"Al, this is Rachael Newsome, and I bet that Rachael is pretty scared right now. Aren't you sweetheart?"

In response the child stared skeptically at the hologram, sucking fiercely on her thumb, and now holding the unicorn in what looked to Al like a death grip.

Sam cast a quick glance at Al, then focused his attention on Rachael. "You know, Rachael, there's really no reason for you to be scared. My name is Sam and that's Al, and we've both been sent here to take care of you while your daddy's away." 

"Tried it already--she ain't buying it, Sam." Al continued to frown down at the little girl.

Sam took a step toward the frightened child, and in doing so, unknowingly walked through part of a kitchen chair.

Rachael's tiny mouth dropped open, her thumb falling out. She still had the unfortunate unicorn by the neck. She stared at Sam for a moment then down at the stuffed animal. Looking back over at the hologram, she favored him, surprisingly, with a small smile. 

"Who sent you? Are you fairies?" This was whispered in childish excitement as she looked back and forth between Sam and Al.

"Yes." Sam agreed, smiling and nodding his head.

"No." Al protested, frowning and shaking his head.

The child's smile grew. "You're fairies like in the book Mommy used to read to me." She totally disregarded the admiral's negative response and reluctant pout.

"Yes, Rachael, we are fairies," Sam shot Al a warning look. "We're Special Fairies that the Queen of the Fairies has sent to look after you while your daddy's gone."

"Great," Al griped, "I'm not just a Fairie, I'm a Special Fairie. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Al," the hologram warned, casting a troubled glance at Rachael who was watching the naval officer intently. 

"Well, it doesn't make me feel better," Al continued grumbling. "I don't wanna be a Fairie. Why can't I be an Angel, like before."

"Because you're not, that's why," Sam hissed at the uncooperative Naval officer. 

"He's awfully grumpy," Rachael interjected, studying Al like a bug under a microscope.

Sam smiled down at Rachael. "Yes, sweetheart, he is awfully grumpy."

"My Mommy would make him take a time-out."

"A time-out?" Al blurted out in annoyance, leveling a glare at the tiny munchkin that was still scrutinizing him. She no longer seemed fearful of him or Sam.

"I agree," Sam smiled. He tossed Al a wry glance. "I think a time-out would definitely help Fairie Al's disposition."

"You can use my room," Rachael offered helpfully.

"Oh, thank you so much," Al muttered, shooting a narrow look at his tiny nemesis.

"Maybe later, okay?" Sam couldn't help but smile at the child's earnest little face and his friend's obvious annoyance. 

"Okay," Rachael sighed, obviously disappointed that Fairie Al wasn't going to get his.

*****

"What's she doing now, Sam?" 

Al watched as Sam looked through the wall that connected the small kitchen with the living room. The upper half of Sam's body disappeared as he checked-up on Rachael's activities.

"She's watching cartoons. You're lucky, Al. You leaped in on Saturday morning, she'll be occupied for hours." The hologram pulled back from the wall to smile at the disgruntled time- traveler.

"Lucky?" Al frowned at his friend. "No, Sam, I'm not lucky. I'm 'Daddy'." The Naval officer managed to make the endearment sound like a four-letter word. 

"Yeah, ain't it a kick in the butt?" Mimicking back to the admiral one of his own favorite phrases, the physicist chuckled, amused with himself. At Al's sour look, the chuckle converted to a slight cough. Sam shrugged. "I'm sorry, okay? I realize this is a ... unique ... experience for you."

"Yeah, well..." Al shrugged off his friend's apology. "Unique is one way of putting it. What am I here to do, Sam."

Sam poked and prodded the hand-link, causing it to shriek in protest. "Well, your name is Robert Newsome. Rachael is your six year old daughter. Her mother, Monica...," the physicist punched a few more buttons on the hand-link and looked hesitantly over at Al.

"Her mother, Monica...what?" Al urged his friend on with an agitated shrug.

Sam swallowed, eyes back on the hand-link. "It seems she walked out on Robert and Rachael about three months ago." The physicist ventured a peek at the older man. 

"You mean she deserted them?" Al frowned.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, studying the time-traveler. He wondered if this leap might not hit a little to close to home for his friend. Al's mother had deserted the family when he was just a child and this situation could dredge up all those feelings. Sam only hoped that Al's swiss-cheesed memory could finally be put to good use and protect him from those old memories. 

A brief, puzzled look flitted across the Admiral's face. He rubbed at his chin uneasily, then seemed to shake the odd feeling off with a shrug of his shoulders. He turned his attention back to Sam. "What's Ziggy say about this?" 

Still troubled, Sam's gaze shifted back to the hand-link. "She says there's a 87.2% chance that you're here to help prove to Robert's family that he can take care of his daughter on his own. In the original history, Robert's sister, Kathryn and her husband, convinced Robert to give up custody of his daughter to them. They ended up raising Rachael. Robert felt he'd failed Rachael and ended up leaving town. Rachael never had a real father-daughter relationship with him and it's adversely affected her adult relationships. Ziggy says you're here to keep the two of them together--to prove that Robert can cut it as a single father."

"This sister sounds like a real piece of work," Al growled.

"Well, I think her intentions are good, just misplaced," reasoned the physicist.

"So I just need to...," Al hesitated.

"Convince Kathryn that the best place for Rachael is with you," Sam continued for him. "You need to prove to Kathryn that Rachael will be well taken care."

"I don't know about this, Sam. I mean, I'm not sure if I'm the right man for the job."

"Al, you're an Admiral in the Navy, you've been a test-pilot, an astronaut, a project engineer, a holographic 

observer--"

"But Sam, those jobs where a piece of cake. Now I have to be..." the older man swallowed the large pit of fear that was wedged in his throat. "...a daddy."

****

"Where do I start," Al paced nervously the length of the kitchen. 

"Well," Sam pondered. "I think a good start would be getting breakfast. What do you usually have for breakfast?"

"A Bloody-Mary."

Sam frowned at his friend. "I'm serious, Al."

"So am I."

The physicist shook his head. "Guess we're going to have to start with the basics."

Al scrambled for paper and a pen.

"First rule, no alcoholic beverages. Got that?"

The admiral nodded, scribbling furiously.

"We need something nutritious."

Al picked up a bag of malted-milk balls from the counter.

"I said, nutritious."

"They have milk in them," the admiral argued, pointing with his pen to the label to prove his point.

"Cereal," Sam ordered, leaving no room for argument.

"Cereal," the admiral agreed. More scribbling. Tentatively he questioned, "With milk?"

"Yes, with milk," Sam said impatiently. "Al, after breakfast you need to get to a book store." 

"Book store," the Naval officer said, writing at the same time. He looked up at his friend. "What do I need at the book store?"

"Everything you can find written by Dr. Spock."

*****

While Al was getting Rachael dressed and ready for their trip to the book store, Sam went back to the control room to see if he could get some help from Ziggy.

He was still concerned that Al's pre-leap memory of his own abandonment might resurface. He wanted to get Al out of this leap as quickly as possible with the least amount of harm to all concerned. As an observer Al had had to face enough personal demons--Sam was going to do whatever it took to keep his friend from reliving any more anguish.

When questioned, the hybrid-computer implied, in a rather nasty way, that there was no help for Al. After witnessing the Breakfast Fiasco, the physicist had to agree.

*****

Several hours later Sam found Al in the kitchen putting away the remnants of lunch-- he was stuffing leftovers bits of cheese, a carrot and several orange sections in a baggie. 

"How about if you invite Kathryn and her husband over for dinner. That way they can see Rachael--"

"In her natural habitat?" Al interrupted, his gravely voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Al, she's a child, not a zoo animal," the physicist reasoned.

"Uh, huh," the older man grunted, not totally convinced. He tossed the baggie into the refrigerator, slamming the door closed with more than necessary force.

Sam followed the agitated Naval officer into the living room.

"When they come over they'll see that you're handling everything just fine," Sam tried to assure his friend.

A silence fell as both men slowly looked around the shambles of the living room. It appeared that a small nuclear device had been detonated. The room was overflowing with toys, piles of discarded clothing, and dirty dishes. A vacuum innocuously stood in the middle of the room, its cord stretched dangerously across the entrance to the hallway, just waiting for a hapless victim. 

After scanning the wreckage, the men's eyes met.

Al raised a skeptical eyebrow. "From this they're gonna see that everything's just fine?"

"I didn't say it was going to be easy, Al. Call and invite them for supper this coming week. You take a few days off work--that's the best bet anyway, considering--and use the time to get this place into shape."

"Sam, I went to the Naval Academy, I can clean with the best of them, but this..." Al waved a hand at the mess. "Sam, this is disgusting. I mean, are you sure this is what we want for Rachael?"

"Al," Sam said, "Ziggy believes that Kathryn never gave Robert the chance to get over his wife walking out on him. At first he did let things go a bit."

"A bit?" Al raised an eyebrow at the physicist. "This place is a disaster area. Sam, I can't even find the phone. It rings occasionally--but I can't find it. Rachael says they have a cat. She hasn't seen him in about a week. I don't even wanna think about what's happened to that poor creature. To tell you the truth, I'm scared I'm gonna misplace the munchkin in this mess."

"Okay, okay," Sam pleaded. "Give the fellow a break. He was depressed. His wife just up and walked out on him and Rachael. It took him a little while to adjust, but Ziggy feels he just needs the extra time you're going to give him. That, and a little boost up."

"Yeah, right onto my shoulders," grunted Al. "Okay, so, I clean up all this," his gesture encompassed the entire house. "I try to take care of Rachael, with the help of these," he picked up one of the mountain of books he'd purchased at the book store. "And...?"

"And, that evening you put Rachael in her Sunday Go To Meeting Duds, play the perfect daddy, and cook dinner, proving to your sister that you are capable of taking care of your daughter." Sam eyed the Naval officer suspiciously. "You can cook, can't you?"

"Of course I can cook," Al looked offended. "I'm Italian." 

*****

Al, efficient as always, wasted no time in rolling up his sleeves and getting down to business. He found a pair of old blue jeans in Robert's bedroom closet, along with a faded Washington Redskins' t-shirt. The perfect clean-up gear and his favorite team to boot.

His problem of what to do with Rachael was solved when her little friend Tina came over. They both retreated upstairs to Rachael's room for a grueling game of Candy Land.

The admiral was just finishing the final touches to the living room, polishing the teak-wood coffee table to a brilliant luster, when he heard the Imaging Chamber door open.

"Al," Sam said, "this looks great. At this rate you'll be finished in no time."

"You haven't seen the bathrooms yet."

"Oh?"

"Or the laundry room."

"Oh."

"Or Munchkin Land." 

Sam looked a question at the admiral.

"The kid's bedroom," Al explained. "It was the worst. I did, however, find the cat."

"I don't think I want to know."

"You don't. Sufficed to say, he went through an entire box of Kitty Nibblets in about 4.2 seconds."

"How's everything with Rachael?" The physicist exited the unpleasant topic of possible animal abuse and entered what he hoped was safer territory.

"Fine, except for feeding her."

"What's the problem," the hologram asked.

"She'll only eat things that begin with the letter 'C'," Al explained. At Sam's look of confusion he continued. "She's learning her alphabet and 'C' is her favorite letter. She decided that if it doesn't start with 'C', it doesn't pass her lips. 

"You're kidding?"

"Nope," Al said simply with a shake of his head. "It's like a Sesame Street Eating Disorder. But, it's not as limiting as you might first suspect. Her main staples seem to be carrots, cheddar cheese, Cheetos, and Chiquita bananas. I figure we have the four main food groups covered, that is if Cheetos are considered a bread.

"I don't think so, Al."

"Damn." The admiral was obviously disappointed. 

"Have you tried to change her mind?" the hologram asked.

"Believe me, Sam, nothing's gonna change that kid's mind. But you're welcome to give it a shot?"

"Ah, no thanks."

"Coward."

*****

Al made the call to Kathryn and her husband Bill, inviting them for dinner Tuesday evening. Al re-evaluated his initial opinion of Kathryn after talking with her. She seemed like a truly caring person. She was just desperately worried about her brother and her niece. Al hoped that this dinner would help to squelch her fears and enable him to leap out of Parental Hell.

It wasn't that Rachael was a terrible child. She was, simply, a child, and as such, a complete mystery to Al.

By Tuesday morning he'd finished most of the heavy cleaning and was down to trying to get the household running with military efficiency. He was sitting at the small desk in the den, trying to make some sense of the jumbled paperwork piled there, when Rachael entered from the living room.

"What'cha do'in?" she asked plaintively.

"Um...I'm working on these paper's," the admiral answered without looking up.

"Do'in what?"

"Getting them in order?" he grunted.

"Why?"

"Because they need to be put in order, so I know where everything is?"

"Why?"

Al finally looked over at the child. She was leaning on the door jam, picking at the eye of her stuffed unicorn. That poor animal had a tough life.

"Rachael, don't you have anything to do?"

She shook her head dejectedly.

"How about going to play with Tina?"

"She's visiting her grandmother."

"How about cartoons."

Another shake of her head shot that idea out of the air.

Al sighed. He looked back at the pile of unopened letters and bills

"Al, would you play a game with me?"

The innocent timbre of her voice tugged at his bachelor-hardened heartstrings. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. I mean, look at her. What a sweetie. She was just bored and a little lonely for her real daddy. It wouldn't hurt him to spend a little time with her. What harm could it do. He was an adult after all. He could handle this situation. 

Al answered Rachael with a smile and a pat on his knee. She skipped over to him giggling, and he pulled her onto his lap. Rachael leaned back against Al's chest as he tried to straighten the barrettes that were precariously holding her curly hair out of her eyes. When he finished Al gave one dark curl an affectionate tug and winked at her. Rachael looked up at the admiral and winked back. She then started to recite all the games she owned -- giving him all his alternatives.

The Naval officer's mind wandered as the litany of her vast toy collection rolled on. This leap hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. In fact, he was actually enjoying it. Not the cleaning part--but taking care of Rachael was starting to seem easy, almost normal to him. She was certainly worming her way into his heart at an alarming rate. Al tried to remember if he had any children of his own. His first instinct was to say no, but somewhere in the dark tunnel that was now his memory came images of reading fairy tales and singing lullabies. The admiral tugged at the recollections, trying to bring them into clear view, but they dissolved back into the murky darkness. He shook off the odd feeling, mentally making note to ask Sam. 

Al glanced down at Rachael in enjoyment. This afternoon he would share with her. After all, playing a few games with the munchkin easily beat out balancing a check book. Maybe he'd even teach her a thing or two--passing on his knowledge to that of the younger generation. Yeah, things could be worse than spending a relaxing afternoon playing games -- this leap was like taking candy from a baby.

*****

"Give me all your two's." 

Al threw his cards on the table in disgust. He watched as the child reached out a small, chubby hand to retrieve the three cards, adding them to her overflowing hand.

"You're cheating," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Prove it," she smiled sweetly.

*****

"Mother, may I?"

"No, you may not."

"Rachael, are you ever going to let me move?"

"No."

"I see."

****

"Damn," Al swore softly under his breath. "How many of these ugly broads are there in this deck?"

"That's why it's called Old Maid. I win."

"What a surprise."

*****

"I win. Again."

"Say, kid, how would you like to learn a new game ... it's called Poker."

*****

"I have four of these, is that good?" Rachael pushed the Ace of Spades under Al's nose.

Silence.

"What does it mean?" the child asked again, waving the card at the admiral.

"It means you win," he answered tightly.

"Time to play another game."

"No. It's time to take a nap."

*****

The nap seemed to have worked wonders for both Al and Rachael's dispositions and the evenings' horse and pony show turned out to be a smashing success. The father-daughter team sailed through the "inspection" without a hitch. 

Al and Sam had both agreed that the holographic observer be absent from the festivities. They didn't want to have to worry about Rachael reacting to her new "invisible friend" in front of curious relatives. Even without his friend's help, Al managed to do all the right things, say all the right words. Rachael helped the most by being on her best behavior. Although he hadn't gotten any word yet from Sam, Al considered the evening a battle won. Kathryn and her husband had been sufficiently impressed with the house, Rachael, and the meal. It went smooth as silk -- considering. 

There had been a few rough moments when Rachael had called him Al, and when Kathryn had asked about the cat, but all and all things went well. Rachel seemed convinced that their success was solely due to her dramatic prowess. After her aunt and uncle had said their goodbye's, she'd sprinted upstairs and was now at her dresser mirror acting out what Al could only deduce was a scene from Camille as there was a lot of coughing involved. While "Greta Garbo" hacked away upstairs, the admiral took a moment to thank his benevolent higher power who had once again seen fit to look out for small children and fools. Al had been able to convince Robert's sister that he was competent enough to handle single parenthood and she'd promised their help when needed. Al was sure that they wouldn't be trying to take Rachael away from Robert now.

Al went upstairs to tell Rachel she needed to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. He found her, still poised in front of the mirror, but now clutching what appeared to be an old bowling trophy and giving her acceptance speech for an Academy Award. He allowed her to finish her list of "thank you's", which included the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Toy's R Us, before hustling her into the bathroom. 

Although he'd hoped to leap out before he had to pull K-P duty, Al headed back downstairs and into the kitchen to assess the damage. It was immense. Undaunted, Al rolled up his sleeves. He was wrapping up the left-over lasagna when Sam popped in.

The hologram peered into a crusted saucepan that was sitting on the front burner.

"Macaroni and cheese?" Sam asked in disbelief. "You tried to make a good impression with Macaroni and Cheese?"

Al turned to his friend, a knife in one hand and a small can of anchovies in the other. "Don't make me use this," the Naval officer threatened.

"What? The knife or the fish?"

"Take your pick." Al finished covering dishes and placing them in the refrigerator. He glanced up at Sam. "The _Cheese_ and Macaroni was for the munchkin. I thought I'd better serve her something she'll actually eat--figured it would look good for Kathryn to see her take in food."

"Oh, yeah," Sam shrugged an apology. "What else was on the menu?"

"The grown-ups ate Calavicci's famous lasagna and Caesar salad with," Al threw back the cover of the bread basket with a flourish. "Homemade garlic croutons."

"Wow," Sam breathed, looking with admiration at what was left of the feast. "You really can cook."

"Son, I've always said that the quickest way to a woman's heart is through her stomach." His dark eyes narrowed into a leer. "Unless of course it's through her--"

"Al," the hologram admonished, blushing. 

The admiral chuckled as he finished his clean up. "So, what's the news from Ziggy? Did I do good?"

Sam smiled at his friend. "Yes, Al, you done good. Rachael ends up staying with Robert. In fact, there's even more good news. Rachael's mom comes back. Robert and she never get back together again, but Monica ends up sharing custody with him."

"That's great, Sam." Al's voice was husky as he finished wiping his hands on the dish towel and tossed it over his shoulder. "I'm glad it worked out for Rachael. I'm glad she didn't have to go through--that she got her Mommy and Daddy back."

"Yeah," Sam said hesitantly, watching as his friend leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Al, are you okay?"

"Sure, Sam, sure I'm okay," the admiral shrugged off his friend's concern. "So, why haven't I leaped? If everything is a-okay with the munchkin, shouldn't I be outta here?"

Sam checked the hand-link. "I'm not sure, Al. I'll go back and check with Ziggy."

Sam opened the Imaging Chamber door and disappeared. Al tossed the wet dish towel into the laundry room and wandered into the living room. The room was dark, except for a small lamp sitting on the end table. The admiral took advantage of Sam's errand and Rachael's absence to stretch out on the sofa. Three days of constant cleaning and child-rearing had taken its toll. He was exhausted. He didn't mean to doze off, but the quiet darkness and soft ticking of the wall clock lulled him to sleep.

When Sam arrived with an update from Ziggy, he found his friend softly snoring. He went into the Kitchen to check things out. Sam was about to head back to the Project, leaving his friend to a few more moments of much needed rest, when the sound of tiny footsteps in the hall stalled him. 

Peeking out through the kitchen wall he watched as Rachael walked over to the sleeping Naval officer. She poked at his arm, but received only a soft grunt for her trouble. Sam was about to intervene for Al's sake, when the little girl climbed up on top of the snoozing Admiral, wrapping her arms about his neck and resting her head on his shoulder.

Sam walked quietly to the back of the sofa, gazing down at the incredible view. His slightly bedraggled best friend had Rachael snuggled safely in his arms, his faint snores ruffling the curls on her forehead. 

Sam smiled sadly. 

This was a side of Al that no one would ever see--the life that Al could have had if only ... if only what? If only there had never been that damned war? If only Beth had been waiting for him when he got home? If only he'd given Ruthie--or any of his other wives--the chance to prove they weren't going to leave him like Beth had. 

The image of his friend holding this little girl, tugged at the physicist's heart. He'd worried about Al and this leap. But the worry had been pointless. Al had faced his temporary fatherhood like he'd faced everything else in his life; with courage, conviction and good humor. It was sad to realize that this thoughtful, caring man would never get the chance to be a real father--fate had dealt him a malicious hand and even Sam hadn't been able to put right that wrong. It just wasn't meant to be -- except maybe like this. Maybe this was Al's only chance to realized those dreams. Sam smiled through the ache in his chest. Maybe this leap was His way of letting Al experience fatherhood--of allowing him to do and feel those things that fate had denied him. It wasn't fair, but it would have to do. 

The handlink chirped its warning of the impending leap. As the room began to swirl about the physicist he took one more look at his friend and the little child in his arms. The tingling energy of the leap engulfed his friend and Sam raised his eyes to the heavens and whispered, "You really did pick the best man for the job."

THE END


End file.
